Light
by perfectpotterhead
Summary: **Currently on hiatus** sorry for any inconvenience :(
1. Chapter 1

_**Light: Chapter 1**_

_a/n: Hello everyone! It is I, Lauren, back with another Hunger Games fanfiction! My last two were really, really fun to write. This story will not be about Prim or Katniss—they will be mentioned quite a bit, however—but instead about characters that I make up. I haven't done a fanfiction in awhile, but I felt like it was time to start up again. So please, enjoy Chapter 1!_

Chapter 1: A Little Introduction

Lux's POV 

I dig my hands into the sand, the grains spilling out of my grasp and plummeting to the ground. My hair blows across my face. It's unusually cold and windy today. My district is always warm and pleasantly sunny. Today it feels like the images we see in school, of ice caps and snow. Snow fascinates me. I'm sure I'll never see it. District Four will see snow when District Twelve wins a Hunger Games.

Why is it this cold? For a moment, fear strikes me. What if we did something the Capitol isn't pleased with? What if they're purposely making it like this, to shut down businesses? What if the fish die? The seafood, like crayfish and crabs? The seaweed? What if District Four is in the midst of a famine? Anxiety floods my system.

But I relax soon after. It's one day. One day will do nothing.

This one day, however, happens to be reaping day. So maybe I should back up a bit.

* * *

My name is Lux.

I live in District Four, in case you didn't catch that.

I was born a healthy baby into a wealthy, loving family. My mother and father happily married, two older sisters nearly identical to me. Our only difference is in the eyes. Everyone in my family—and nearly everyone in Four—has blue or green eyes.

I got black ones.

Pippa is the oldest, followed by Noely. Then me. We've all got the same blonde hair, except mine is just the tiniest bit curlier. Pippa's always in the eye of a guy, while Noely mostly focuses on grades, although she'd not say no to a date either.

Me? I get lots of requests. I just don't like the whole idea of dating. I know eventually I'll get around to it. I'm more of a solitary figure. I don't drool after guys or flirt openly.

I have friends, but I never feel like we're as close as they'd like me to be. I just always feel that I'll turn on them somehow, ruin everything. So I tread carefully, watching every step.

As I grew up, I watched every Hunger Games. Now I'm fifteen. The Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games will approach, happen, and pass. I'll watch them avidly, taking notes. I'll keep up my training at the Academy, and in three years I'll volunteer. Just like everyone else does.

I just have to be first one to raise my hand and run up to the podium. Every year, it's mass chaos. After realizing that they can't control the mass number of eighteen-year-old volunteers, they have everyone raise their hands if they would like to volunteer, input the names into a computer, and randomly select two—male and female. The ones reaped originally have a choice. If they would like a volunteer, they simply request one. If not, they state that they will fight.

I'm sure Pippa will be one of the names randomly selected this year. She's eighteen, after all. She's been buzzing about these Games for awhile. She's been training with her specialty—a scythe. She can rip apart three dummies at once with that thing. She's also excellent with a machete and a sword. I've seen her flip her machete behind her to stab and then twirl it around her in a perfect circle to take out anyone in any direction. She can throw her sword from one end of the room to the other and hit the target each time.

Noely would rather use a smaller weapon—knives, daggers, sharp throwing disks—because her arm and accuracy is phenomenal. She can tear through two dummies at once and throw a disk with both hands perfectly. It's incredible.

Me? I'd rather use an axe. Axes or maces. Something that balances nicely in my hand. I've got strong arms and hands. I can fling them as far as I want. I like how fast they work, how if I were ever in a sticky situation they'd kill quickly. How the axe could help me escape in a hurry. It sounds despicable, but it's almost a relief how rapidly someone would bleed out or die with the use of a spiked mace or jagged axe.

I'm not like the other awful Careers that laugh at the screams that the dying make or swagger around like they've got the ability to kill anyone who snaps a branch within twenty yards of them. I do want to win, though. I want to win and bring pride to District Four. Last year the gorgeous, seductive Finnick Odair won with his trident. I want that to be me someday.

* * *

Pippa finds me on the beach, sitting rigidly on a wooden bench, ankles crossed and jacket pulled tightly around myself.

"Lux?"

I give a start. "God, Pippa."

"Sorry. Mom wondered where you were." Pippa offers me a mug. Hot chocolate. I usually only drink it when it's the middle of January, when it's actually somewhat normal for it to be this cold. Even then it almost never dips this low in temperatures.

"Thanks." I sip once, the warm brown liquid searing my tongue. "Are you going to volunteer?"

Pippa laughs. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You'll win," I say instantly. "You'll win. I've seen you with your scythe. If there's not one in there, I'll get you one somehow. I'll find your mentor. I'll send you a scythe."

She smiles at me and ruffles my hair. "Glad to know you're on my side." She slips her fingers around my mug and drinks some. "Something seems weird about this weather. I hate the cold." Everyone in Four does. It's natural.

"I thought that too—for a second I thought the Capitol might be angry," I say under my breath, counting on the wind to drown out my words.

"What?" Pippa stares at me with a mix of shock and thoughtfulness on her face. "I don't know about that, Lux. That's a bit extreme."

I nod. "I sort of realized that too. I don't know, though. If it's like this much longer…" I don't need to finish. Pippa understands.

She pulls her hair into a complicated twist. "Let's go inside before you get hypothermia." She pokes my shoulder. I smile and follow her inside of our house. Way to go, Pippa, lightening things up effortlessly.

* * *

My mother Josie grins at us. "Cold?"

"Yeah. Pippa stole my hot chocolate."

"I was cold too!" Pippa interjects.

"Well, just clean up for the reaping. Pippa, I understand you'll be volunteering?"

"Yep!"

Noely walks into the room. "Lux! Lux, can I borrow a dress? Mine seems to have vanished, and I can't wear anything of Pippa's, that's all too big."

I nod. "Which one?"

"How about the pink one with the glitter?"

I smile. "Sure."

She thanks me and goes to find it. "What dress are you doing to wear, Lux?" Mom asks.

"The blue one with the diamonds," I respond.

"Oh, that's gorgeous. You'll look fantastic."

"Want me to do your hair?" Pippa says slyly.

"No," I retort. "You'll probably snip it all off."

Pippa laughs and goes off to get ready.

* * *

I stare at myself in the mirror. Pippa's fingers work furiously, tucking my hair into a magnificent fishtail braid. My makeup makes my dark eyes pop, my lashes drawn out dramatically. I wear shoes that match my dress exactly.

In short, I look beautiful.

"Good god, Lux," Pippa states, smiling. "You look amazing."

"So do you," I offer back. Pippa wears a yellow dress with intricate with swirls coating it. Her hair falls long and straight down her back. She looks much better than I do.

Pippa takes a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

"I think the real question is, are you? You're the one volunteering."

Pippa nods. "With you getting me that scythe, I should be. I request a blue one covered in rubies?"

I laugh and we walk out of the room.

Noely looks flawless in my pink, sparkly dress and her hair curled to perfection. "Oh my god, Lux." She grins and hands me a pair of earrings, each baring a deep blue eye. "They're your reaping present."

"Thank you, Noel," I say. They're gorgeous. "I love them." I put them on.

"Pippa, this is for luck." Noel hands Pippa a silver anklet. A tiny moon shimmers on the black band. "Because the moon is lucky."

That's one of District Four's superstitions. Whenever there's a full moon, the fishing is supposed to be great and luck is supposed to blossom everywhere. Whenever there's a new moon, the waves are supposed to be rough and the fish seemingly will evade capture.

"God, Noel." Pippa embraces my older sister.

"Pippa, I have something for you too," I say. I just thought of it. I go to my room and open my dresser drawer. My fingers close around it.

I run back to Pippa and hand her my gift.

Her eyes widen. "No, Lux. That's too valuable."

"Please take it. It's for luck. It's so you'll win."

I slip the pearl around her neck. A moon, a pearl. Two lucky figures.

Pearls aren't really that valuable. We find all kinds of them around here. But this one was valuable.

* * *

Pippa, Noely, and I were pawing around the beach one day. I was sitting near some rocks, trying to catch a crayfish when a glimmer caught my eye.

A tiny, perfect pearl sitting on top of a shell.

I remember scooping it into my hands and running to show Noely.

"Noe! Noe! Look!"

She wrapped her fingers around the tiny sphere. "Where did you find it?"

"Over there by the rocks!"

Pippa had smiled. "Not in an oyster?"

"Nope! Let's show Mom!"

Noely had objected. The beach we were currently at was about a half hour walk from our house. But I had pleaded. Begged. Pippa stated that there wasn't really much to do anymore. Rain had begun to fall, lightly. So Noely agreed. We packed up our things and left to show our mother.

The Peacekeepers came soon after we had left.

There was a riot soon after we had left.

Almost everyone near the beach was dead soon after we had left.

Riots in Four are exceptionally rare, as rare as this cold. But one happened. Something about Avoxes. Something about the Hunger Games. Something about the Capitol.

Something about death.

Then gunshots and fire.

* * *

"Pippa! Noely! Lux! Time to go!" My father's voice is urgent. "We can't be late!"

All three of us girls step into the room. We are the perfect image of what District Four daughters should look like—skilled, beautiful, and smart.

"You all look wonderful," my mother exclaims.

"Pippa, it's your time to shine," Noel smiles.

"We're so proud of you all," my father says with a grin.

I tap Pippa on the shoulder and link her pinky finger with mine. "There."

"There what?"

I smile. "Now I've given you all my luck."

Finnick Odair gives one last grin and steps off the stage. If Pippa makes it in, he will be one of her mentors. The crowd goes berserk when he blows a kiss and tosses his hat into the audience. Many young women tear at each other hysterically and the Peacekeepers have to step in.

Our escort, Ursula Jones, is wearing a vivid orange dress to match her vivid orange hair. "Let's start with the girls." She almost skips over to the ball. I glance at Pippa. The words "I volunteer" are already forming on her lips.

* * *

"**Lux Rosaria." **

* * *

I freeze.

Me?

A thousand people are screaming I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE, but Ursula Jones is shaking her vivid orange head. "Let her choose!" Ursula smiles at me.

"Would you like a volunteer?"

Do I want one?

**Yes, of course you do. You're not ready to fight.**

** But don't you want to bring fame to District Four?**

I find Pippa's face in the crowd. She's frantically trying to signal me. I'LL VOLUNTEER! she's shrieking.

"No, I'll fight."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Light—Chapter 2**_

_a/n: Hey, guys. Another installment, here we go! Enjoy Ch. 2! _

Chapter 2: Half An Afternoon

Lux's POV

"LUX!" Pippa throws her arms around me. "Good god, Lux, why? Stupid, stupid…" She strokes my hair, shaky but not teary. No, Pippa will not cry. Pippa never cries.

Noely doesn't cry, either. She's the real rock of the family—never too angry, never too sad. "Seriously, Lux. I mean, you're fantastic, but you're also fifteen!"

Nobody is crying over poor, poor Lux, being sent into an arena to kill people. They all seem concerned, but airy. Annoyed.

"I'm sorry, okay? But I want to bring pride to Four. I have to. I have to be the feminine Finnick Odair. It's all I'm good at!" My voice has risen to a yell and my parents step back. "I'm not pretty. I'm not smart. I'm not anything but somebody who can throw an axe!"

"No, you're not." Pippa's words are stone-cold. "You're not going to be throwing an axe. When you get to the Training Center, go for the scythe. You'll use the scythe. I'll get you one in the arena. Show the Capitol that family isn't something to play with." Her teeth are gritted.

My heartbeat speeds, but doesn't race. Pippa shouldn't be saying these things. I know the Peacekeepers have left, but what about cameras? Voice recorders?

"Pippa," my mother whispers, but Pippa just raises her chin and sits beside me, her arms around me.

"You know you can win," Noely says. She adjusts her glasses. "It's a fact. Just use your axe or scythe or whatever you're using well. But use your brains, too. Remember old Haymitch Abernathy?"

I nod. Twelve's only victor that's still alive.

"Well, he won by outsmarting his competition. Do the same thing, Lux."

Pippa removes her moon anklet from Noely and the pearl necklace from me and dumps them in my hands. Then she links our pinkies, tears finally shimmering on her eyes.

"You're pure luck, Lux," she says.

* * *

My District partner is a fifteen-year-old boy named Drew Joyce. He's striking. Not sea-green eyes, but deep, sapphire blue ones. Typical sandy blond hair. Freckle-splashed cheeks.

He's the same age as I am. I remember him saying he'd like to fight as well. Looking at him, I can see why. He'll get tons of sponsors.

His back is turned, his fists propping up his chin. His eyelashes are long and extend, as black as my irises. I peer over his shoulder.

He smiles and turns to me, his lips dangerously close to mine. I can taste his warm breath. His eyes are as sharp as broken glass.

"Hello," he says simply.

I smile back. "Hey." He observes me, his eyes exploring my face, the glass shards piercing my head. It's such a strange feeling, being surveyed with so much…intensity. It's as though he's prying off the shield that I've thrown up to protect myself.

"Your eyes," he says quietly.

I instantly like this boy a lot.

"I know. It's weird, but—"

He shushes me. "I like them. They're different. Mysterious."

I laugh. "I'm not different or mysterious."

Drew raises an eyebrow but turns away. I instantly fear I've scared him off, like I scare so many people off. Cursing myself for losing the shield, I try to keep my cheeks from blazing. I'm about to speak, perhaps to call his name, when Mr. Mysterious himself arrives.

* * *

**Finnick Odair.**

* * *

"Tributes," Finnick says. "I'm Finnick Odair. I daresay you've heard of me." He smiles.

The thing I was most impressed by in his Games was Finnick's cleverness. He used cleverly placed nets to ensnare his prey, and the trident was a literal modification to his body, like it was connected to him. It was incredible to watch. Last year will probably be my favorite Games forever.

"Hello," I say, and Finnick smiles at me.

"Hello, beautiful." My heart thumps loudly. "Where did you come from?" He takes a piece of my hair and rubs it between his fingers.

"Casttown," I answer, hoping my voice doesn't shake quite too much.

"Oooh. A beach girl. That'd explain the lovely hair." He peers at me again. "But not the eyes."

Drew grins. "I'm not the only one who noticed."

Finnick's gaze lingers on me. "They're…" He searches for the right word. "They're broken."

* * *

Finnick is seductive, but sarcastic and also very, very funny. At dinner, I'm seated beside him. He makes jokes about sea salt and forks, and he's always smiling and chatting away. I find myself staring at his eyes. Absolutely breathtakingly sea-green. Eyes. I have a weakness for eyes. Drew's brilliant sapphire-blues. Finnick's beautiful, lush, almost neon sea-greens. Even my own pitch-black, broken eyes. The eyes are a window to the soul.

Sea-green collides with black as Finnick catches my gaze.

"Looking for something?" he asks, licking his lips ever so slightly.

I blush for some awful reason. "Maybe some actual humor."

Finnick laughs along with Drew. "You think I'm funny," he says, prodding me in the ribs. I laugh because it tickles and because it's funny. Finnick and Drew seem to like me, and it's only been an afternoon. I swallow my anxiety—or at least try to. It sort of sticks in my throat and tears pull at my eyes. _Don't cry,_ I command myself sternly, but I drop my fork and have to kind of grip the sides of my chair really hard and press one fingernail under the other—a sudden, small burst of pain that helps me focus. It doesn't go unnoticed—at least not by Finnick. He touches my wrist, face concerned.

_You okay?_ he mouths.

I nod, eyes closed. The tears slowly fade away and I let go of the chair. Drew smiles comfortingly and Finnick's eyes are ripping apart at the shield. _No. Keep your distance. _I focus on my food. A delicious, rich potato soup topped with tiny shredded tomatoes. I spoon some into my mouth.

* * *

My anxiety has always been a restraint. I feel waves of it wash over me right now, as I lay silent and unmoving in my bed, sweaty and clammy. I've already been dragged out of nightmares three times tonight. The third time was the worst, as I watched a sea-green sea full of deadly, sapphire blue fish that tear at my skin. Suddenly I transformed into wisps of pitch-black smoke that rose into the sky and then fell back down, spattering blood everywhere.

I wake up from the fourth one screaming. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep.

There's a quiet knock at my door. I glance over at the clock with heavy, burning eyes. It's three o'clock in the morning. Who'd want me now? It's probably some big shot, coming to complain about the noise.

I slip over to the door and wrap my fingers around the cold brass doorknob. I twist it and the door swings open.

"Finnick," I say tiredly.

"I heard screams," he says worriedly. "Is everything okay? I saw you at dinner." He half-smiles. "Oh whale. I thought I should come sea you."

I snort and sob at the same time. "You suck," I mutter, and he laughs and puts his hands on my shoulders. Even though we're the same age, he feels unreachable. Like he's not real. He's too…perfect. Too sarcastic, too gorgeous, too funny, too sweet. He's too flawless. And I have to remind myself that falling in love with Finnick is not an option. I've watched him from TV screens and magazine galleries for a year now. It's like saying you "love" a celebrity. Everything changes when you actually meet them.

Finnick takes my hand, cautiously at first. I remember thinking how he'd love nothing more than to kiss a girl he'd never met while he was touring. I remember hundreds of other girls screaming, begging for his kiss, pleading for one peck, one glimpse, one chance…it was awful, how they'd line up with money. Paying him to kiss them. I felt bad for Finnick, but watching him, he always seemed too mysterious. Always just a touch of too much romance, too much purr. It slowly got more evident to me. Sometimes I'd see him prowling around in Casttown, perhaps five blocks away, and the crowd would stretch to my house. Sometimes I was in that crowd, just wanting a smile in my direction, an autograph. Never a kiss. I'd never give someone any sort of money to kiss me. I don't want kisses. I'll get too attached.

Finnick's fingers interlace with mine and I jump. I'd forgotten he was there.

"Sorry," he mumbles. I stare at him. Finnick's never been fazed—as far as I know. I've never seen him stumble or stutter on TV. Never seen him falter with his mystery-romance-god act. Finnick's as fluid as the water in our ocean.

"It's—it's fine." My breathing. My _breathing. My breathing chooses to mess up right now, out of all the times. _I focus on Finnick's hands.

They're tan and callused, but soft and strong. His fingers are long and deft, probably from years of tying knots and forming nets and maneuvering tridents. My eyes flicker to a long, rippling scar on his arm. It doesn't seem very old, but I remember he was just in the Games last year.

* * *

A redheaded girl with bedraggled green eyes—lovely and beautiful—knocks at the door. Her eyes are unfocused. "Hello, I'm Annie. I was just…" Her voice trails off. Finnick's brows furrow.

"Just what?"

Annie gives a start and puts her hands over her ears.

I let go of Finnick's hand and walk over to her. "I'm Lux. The tribute from Four. How are you, Annie?" I gently take her wrists and lower them to her sides. "How are you, Annie?" I repeat calmly.

"I'm very good, thank you. What is your name?"

"I'm Lux. Lux Rosaria. I'm the tribute from District Four."

"I'm from there also!" Annie's eyes light up, perhaps because she remembers seeing me around somewhere. I must've glimpsed her before. She's not exactly hard to miss. Vivid red hair, startlingly green eyes, and the rather unusual manner.

I recognize the signs of madness right away.

"Were you ever in the arena, Annie?"

Annie's pupils dilate. "No, but it is scary." She covers her ears with her hands again.

I wonder what made her go mad. She couldn't have been a tribute, I'd remember her.

And then a flashback.

She was at the riot!

* * *

"_Our sources report that over sixty people have perished. Ten of them were Peacekeepers." The news announcer's face is grave at the mention of the Peacekeepers. _

_ My father makes a small, disgusted noise at the back of his throat._

_ I'm sitting behind the couch, my hands over my ears, trying to block out the announcer's words._

_ But I peek over the sofa anyway. A small boy with dark red hair is being shown. "—the youngest of the fallen," the anchorman says. "Johnathan Cresta's father was also killed in the attack. The mother has been taken custody. All that remains is Annie Cresta, Johnathan's older sister. She was last spotted at her brother's side."_

* * *

"Your brother," I whisper.

She screams, a horrible, gurgled, high-pitched noise. "JOHNATHAN!"

Finnick stays rooted to the spot, watching fearfully.

"Shh, Annie. It's okay. I'm here. I'm Lux. I'm your friend. It's okay."

I have to be very, very careful around this Annie Cresta. Madness isn't to be taken lightly, plus she seems to be suffering from emotional trauma. Her red hair is the exact same shade as her brothers. The eyes are slightly different, Johnathan's more dull.

How do I remember this? How do I remember this boy? Maybe I'm suffering from emotional trauma too. I don't know. I do know that I'm screwed-up. Mistake-prone. Broken.

Annie slowly uncovers her ears. "Lux?"

"Yes."

"Light. That means light."

I jerk backward, surprised. "That's lovely. Thank you for telling me." It doesn't. I know that for a fact. Lux was probably some great-aunt's name. It's a strange name.

"I was sent up to see who was screaming," she says through trembling lips.

"Sent up? You work here?" Annie nods. "Well, thank you for coming."

She's very, very unstable. I have to sort of push her out of the room.

She turns to me.

"Thank you, Lux." A smile. A genuine smile.

"You're very welcome, Annie."

* * *

Finnick is staring at me as though he's never seen me before.

"I've known you half of a day and I think I may be transfixed," he says finally.

I blush furiously. "From one mad person to another," I mutter.

"Mad? You're not mad." Finnick seizes my wrists. "You dealt with that like you'd had practice."

"I'm mad, Finnick, just maybe not as mad as Annie." I rub my eyes and peer up at him quizzically.

He's grinning like _he's_ mad. "You're broken, but you're not crazy."

I smile.

* * *

"But I am."

"No, you're not, and don't pretend you are, either."

"You always seem so different on TV, in public. So…"

"…gorgeously seductive?"

"Actually yes. Also modest and quiet."

"You're funny, Lux."

"But seriously. I mean you're so…different in private. With me. You call me broken. You get scared. You mess up when you hold hands with a girl. I like you better like this, Finnick."

"Why are you thinking about this now? What about your family? Your home? Your life?"

"Those things were taken from me. I can't get them back now. I've got no control over this anymore. I just need to keep it together. I can win."

"…"

"…"

"I've known you half a day, Lux."

"…"

* * *

"I already think you're utterly extraordinary."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Light—Chapter 3**_

_a/n: Hello, everyone! I thought maybe you'd like to know a bit more about me, so here goes: I'm Lauren! I live in the USA up north so right now it's really cold. I'm in seventh grade. If you ever want to kik me, just ask :). Thanks, guys, and enjoy Ch. 3!_

Chapter 3—

Lux's POV

I wake up nestled against Finnick. I must've dozed off while we were sitting in silence. This begs one question: did he do this, or did I? In a daze of sleepiness, did I wrap myself around Finnick like a ribbon? Or did he put my arms around himself and fall back into bed?

I jump out of his grasp and give my head a shake. I can't do this! I can't get attached. Getting attached means getting hurt in the end.

Finnick stirs and blinks rapidly. Seeing me, he shoots out of bed, hair mussed. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, nearly knocking over the bedside table. "I'm sorry. You looked cold."

I refrain from blushing. "Thanks, then." I bite back tears, for some awful reason. Why do I always choose to cry at the worst moments? It's so dumb. Anxiety is so dumb. "Finnick…"

"I know. I know." He waves it away.

"I haven't even known you for a day," I whisper.

He catches my wrists. "Ever believed in love at first sight?"

I draw away, heart thumping. "Love at first sight?"

Finnick's cheeks are as red as the roses resting in a vase on my dresser. "I…god, Lux. I'm just—you're—" He backs up and stumbles over a rug. "I'm going to go now," he says quietly.

I feel awful, but I can't do anything right now. I've got to focus on the Games. If I win, then Finnick and I might be able to work something out.

* * *

Drew crosses my mind yet again: his cheerful, joking manner, his sapphire blue eyes. It'd be a shame to waste such beauty. I guess I am beautiful too, in a Four way—blonde hair in lazy corkscrews and bright broken eyes, a slim frame and a delicate look. But beneath this cover-up I've created is a girl who can fight, but crumbles whenever things are too stressful or surprising. I can kill with ease, but I've blocked myself in this awful shell that I can't climb out of.

And now Finnick—the most famous, handsome Victor ever—is for some reason in love with me. Me, the broken girl. The question I can't stop asking myself isn't _Why me, _but _How me? _How can Finnick love someone like me?  
A. We've known each other half of a day and a whole night.

B. He's literally got the entire world chasing after him.

C. I'm too screwed-up to be any sort of…interesting.

and D. I'm too focused on this arena.

Or I was. Now Finnick's created this weird distraction—almost a decoy. For me to fall in love with him. _Good job, Finnick, _I think wearily. _You've succeeded._

Has he, though? Do I love Finnick?

No, I can't. It's impossible.

* * *

"Miss Rosaria?" Ursula knocks at my door. I haven't moved since I had climbed back into my bed and thrown the covers up over my eyes. "Time to get up!"

I groan and roll over. I'm exhausted. I fell asleep around five and woke around seven. That's two hours of sleep. Today we'll get escorted to our apartments before Training.

Training. My stomach drops. Training makes me want to vomit. I'm terrified of it. All of the tributes in one place, showing off for each other.

At least we've still got three days. Three days of lounging in an apartment, observing old Games tapes, trying to strategize—talking to Finnick and Drew and Ursula.

The parade!

I jump out of bed. The parade is today! My stylist will be meeting with me in a few hours. I wonder if they'll be creative, or if I'll go near-naked except for a few seashells.

I throw on a much too big blue t-shirt and comfortable black pants. My hair is pulled into a horrible messy braid and my feet are bare as I try not to sprawl out the door. Annie Cresta is waiting for me, a smile on her face.

"Hello," she says quietly.

"Hi, Annie." I attempt a smile, but I'm so tired that I might not even move my mouth.

"Are you okay? You look…"

For the first time, I realize how young Annie must be. Fourteen or fifteen, like me. I also realize she's not mad. She's simply unstable. I thought differently at first, but perhaps she was simply having a bad night. Like I was.

"…sort of sad."

Sad?

I sigh. "I am sad."

"Because of Finnick? Or because you had to leave your family? Or because you might die?"

I feel nerves submerge me and pull me under. Suddenly I'm on the ground, screaming and sobbing at the same time. Annie's screaming with me and she runs off to go freak out somewhere else.

Finnick's standing above me, and he's yelling over my screams and wiping at my face. Drew's right next to him, kneeling at my side and patting my shoulder. Then I'm done screaming and I'm just sobbing, sobbing like a four-year-old because I'm sad and angry and full of so many emotions that they've taken me over. Annie reminding me of what's actually happening shocked me and I basically erupted into an anxiety attack.

Finnick shushes me gently, scooping me into his arms and caressing my hair. "It's okay," he whispers into my ear. "You're okay. I'm here. You're okay."

I nod, still crying feebly. Drew's got my hand in his hand and he's also comforting me, telling me that I just got scared.

"Annie?" I ask, my voice nothing but a rasp.

"She panicked, but we calmed her down now." Finnick's eyes are so, so kind that I feel a lump in my throat and start crying again. He looks at Drew fearfully.

"I'm such a coward. I'm such a coward. I'm going to die right away," I whisper, burying my head in Finnick's shoulder. "I'm dead already."

Finnick sets me down on the ground gently. He bites his lip.

"You're not dead, Lux. You're just broken, that's all."

I gaze up at him, wide-eyed. "Broken beyond repair."

Finnick smiles, looking down at the ground.

"I'll fix you."

* * *

My stylist is a twenty-year-old girl with five piercings in one ear and a sly smirk named Vivian.

"Hey," she says, extending a slender, deft hand riddled with scars from pricking herself with a sewing needle. "I'm Vivian. I'll be your stylist, Lux." She smiles. "I've got a fantastic idea."

I nod.

"Your hair is perfect for it. Body type, too. Let's get your prep team to remake you." She frowns. "Have you been crying? Or just not a lot of sleep?"

"Both," I say, trying _so_ hard to keep the tears from showing. _Don't think about it, don't think about it._

"Oh, that's not a problem." Vivian doesn't probe, and I do silently thank her for it. "Meet your prep team."

Two men and a woman appear, smiling broadly. One of the men has striking red hair—and eyes. Cat pupils to top it all off. The other man has fangs for teeth and a bright green tongue. The woman has an obviously altered body with too-long eyelashes and neon blue skin with tattooed magenta shapes.

"I'm Shafe," Cat-Pupils says cheerily, the Capitol accent clipping some letters.

"Hello," I say rather nervously.

"My name is Tessa," Tattoos says, curtseying.

"I'm Lux," I respond.

"I'm Rawus," Green Tongue says with a fanged grin.

"They're going to go make you pretty so I can make you prettier," Vivian drawls. She's so cool, it's almost frightening. "Go on, Lux." She smiles and pushes me out the door. I notice for the first time that she glitters in the light. Catching my gaze as I turn back to see if I can catch the glimmer again, she laughs. "It's a Capitol thing!" she calls before my prep team ushers me into a room.

* * *

I stand stark-naked while they wax and tweeze and remove hair. My anxiety is at a dangerous level, with six eyes peering at my bare body. The team hardly seems to notice—or care. They just comb my hair, rip off what seems like every piece of hair on my body, and file my nails. Then they lather me in gel—that's also really weird—and hand me a robe.

Green Tongue pipes up, talking to me for the first time. For most of the time they've just chatted, talking to each other about parties to attend, parties _not_ to attend, seafood, and what alterations they should inflict on themselves next.

"Lux—charming name, by the way—Vivian wanted you to know what you're going to be dressed up as! We decided as a group to play the beauty card, seeing as you are _not_ lacking in the looks department." I smile. They really aren't so bad. They're just stereotype. "We've decided you'll be a mermaid."

I grin. "Really? That sounds great." Finally, a stylist who knows what she's doing.

"There won't be an actual tail," Tattoos states, "that's too complicated, plus we would like you to be able to walk. But everything else will be perfect, I promise. Vivian is the best in the business."

They fluff up my hair a bit and then whisk me off to the best in the business.

Vivian's mouth curls up into a right-sided smile. "You look fantastic."

"Thanks," I say bashfully.

"You're too shy, though. You've gotta be outgoing, or you'll never get any sponsors." My anxiety mounts, bobbing dangerously. "I also heard you've got a severe nervousness problem or whatever. That's going to be a killer in the arena, but I believe in you. I've heard a lot about you. Finnick says you're amazing with that axe of yours."

My nerves dip down again, and I'm almost calm. Finnick's name brings reassurance. I have to do the fingernail thing—the pushing of one nail under the other to inflict a tiny amount of pain—to focus again.

"—I heard about your attack earlier."

"Yeah. Annie Cresta sort of brought me back to reality, and the 'sudden change' shocked me. That happens a lot—me getting shocked then reverting to anxiety. I've had this problem for as long as I can remember, and it comes at weird times. Normally it's a few tears and some rapid breathing, but it was awful today."

Vivian nods. "Hey, I know what you mean. I had OCD for a long time. I used to have to redo things over and over til they were perfect. I was a perfectionist. It sucked hardcore, but I got over it, and you will too. I'm not sure a trip to an arena where people kill people for fun will help, but what do I know?"

I actually laugh, and this surprises me. Usually that'd bring about another panic attack. But for some reason, it doesn't, and I feel proud for awhile.

* * *

I look at my reflection. Vivian stands behind me, fiddling with a few loose strands of hair. I'm forcibly reminded of Pippa before the reaping, and I strain to keep from crying.

"You look flawless," Cat-Pupils says boastfully. "Vivian, you've outdone yourself."

I'm wearing a bikini top made out of seashells, like you see in the movies. It seems weird, but it's actually not and I really like it. I wear a pair of aquamarine tights covered in scales—or what seem like scales. They're either real or Vivian's a genius and also a master. I'm guessing the latter. They shimmer when I move, giving the impression of a rainbow on my legs. My entire body matches Vivian's—covered in glitter. My hair is done in beautiful messy fishtails, woven with seaweed. I wear a crown of coral. Around my neck is the pearl necklace that Pippa pressed into my hand. A lei made out of gorgeous orange tiger lilies hangs around my neck with the pearl. My anklet is fastened around—duh—my ankle. I'm barefoot.

I am beautiful.

My makeup is done so my face is flawless but not clown-like. My pitch-black eyes stand out fantastically against all the color. I look strong, but innocent as well. I don't exactly look like a mermaid, but I look like the perfect District Four girl.

"Are you ready?" Drew asks from behind me. I turn around to find him dressed near-identical to me, with scaly swim trunks and the exact same crown, lei, and body glitter as I. We match perfectly, like two peas in a pod. District Four will not go unforgotten this year. We stand out but fit in very nicely.

* * *

Our carriage will be pulled by two handsome white stallions. The chariot itself is beautifully decorated with sea-blue waves and pearly shells and golden trimming. I run my fingers over the designs, feeling the different textures underneath my skin.

Suddenly I smell salty air and sand.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Finnick says.

"Are you going back to sexy, since we're in public?" I ask, shaking my head.

"It's your birthday tomorrow," he says, completely ignoring me.

"Oh. Yeah. I forgot." I give a nonchalant shrug, trying desperately to get a hold on my emotions. My birthday will be celebrated in the Capitol. Not where it should be. It should be celebrated on the beach, with friends and family, the sun setting over the ocean.

"You forgot about your sixteenth birthday?" Finnick shakes his head, smiling. "Sometimes you're incredibly hard to believe, Lux." He takes a piece of my hair, just like he did when we first met. "You look breathtakingly District Four-esque. Was that on purpose?"

I roll my eyes. "Come on, Finnick. I know you've got a brain up in your pretty little head."

He smiles eagerly. "You think my head is attractive?"

Blushing furiously, I shoot him a sideways grin, my mouth curled up on one side. Finnick pretends to adjust my tiara.

"You're really pretty like that," he whispers, beaming, eyes wide. "You should smile more often."

I try to stop my cheeks from blazing.

* * *

Drew and I join hands. His hands are so soft, so warm. I smile at him. "Ready?" I say encouragingly, since Drew looks a little worse-for-wear. He nods, smiling back weakly. "Oh, you can smile bigger than that," I tease, poking his arm. "We need sponsors."

"I know. That's why I'm paranoid—_**we need sponsors. **_If we don't get sponsors, we can't win."

"Finnick—" I stop. Finnick didn't technically win without a sponsor. Who knows what would've happened without that trident? I mean, he was doing fantastically, but that trident was literally the key to winning everything. "Without his trident…"

"…I still could've beaten you two with one hand tied behind my back," Finnick says, materializing behind us, grinning a lovely thing. His smile really does reassure me, make me feel better.

I still jump, though, surprised by his sudden appearance. My crown falls, clattering. I stare at my feet, embarrassed beyond belief. Then I trip and fall out of the chariot—not a sizeable fall, but nevertheless a fall. Everyone is staring now, staring at the poor klutz, the poor excuse for a tribute. Maybe I'm overreacting, but it still raises my anxiety, and I press my fingernails together and try to keep my breathing from sounding too asthma-y.

The District One girl is holding in her giggles. I try to keep from crying.

Finnick smiles and kisses my cheek. There are sharp intakes of breath around the room. "Keep your head up, Princess, your crown is falling," he says kindly. I have to hold back from burying my head in his chest and whispering my thanks over and over. He's provided a perfect distraction—love.

"Thank you," I whisper, my eyes so wide as I look at him. District Two's tributes look absolutely ravenous—the girl especially. I think her name is Tiffany. The only person more disgusted—and definitely disappointed as well—is obviously District One. Her name is probably something stupid like Sparkle or Rainbow. I actually think it's Ribbon.

Finnick takes my hand and hoists me back up into the chariot. Soon after, chatter resumes, and it's obviously about the new, unpredictable couple—Lux and Finnick.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble shamefacedly. "I'm never going to get any sponsors. I'm too awful."

Finnick shakes his head. "You've got to stop saying that. I've known you for two days and you've said more negative things about yourself than people have said about the Capitol for as long as I've been alive." He takes my hand. "Why don't you see that you're perfect to me?"

I pull my hand back. _Don't get attached. _"Finnick…I can't. I can't…just…" I sigh to keep from screaming "GET AWAY FROM ME! I'M ONLY GOING TO HURT YOU AND MYSELF!"

In the end, I always hurt someone, whether it's me or somebody else or a random stranger who gets involved. The only people I can afford to be attached to are Pippa, Noely, Mom, and Dad, and even then I'm cautious. Perhaps I should trust my mentor wholeheartedly. But if I mess up, they could completely sabotage me.

Really, somewhere deep down, I know I'm paranoid. I know I'm just being stupid. I know I should stop. I know, I know, I know. I know a lot. I just don't process a lot.

"Lux." He runs a finger down my wrist, delicately. I see myself wrapping my arms around him, tilting my head, our lips touching ever so slightly and then all at once.

"I'm sorry—can we talk later?" I breathe, smiling as though nothing is wrong. Finnick nods casually, smoothing back a piece of my hair. "But—the love card—don't, not anymore. Just let it flicker and die out so we're not constantly tortured."

I see the disappointment on his face. "What if we wanted to keep it up?"

"We can't. Not now." I breathe deeply. "I can't—like I said. We'll talk later."

Finnick nods and squeezes my hand.

* * *

The air is so nice and warm, the sun dazzling overhead. I raise my hands into the air with Drew, so we are linked in a perfect "w".

This can't be right! People are screaming my name. People love me! I smile and wave and the cheers intensify. I wink, and a hundred people yell out. Drew is beside me, copying me exactly. We look like twins: perfect, tan Four kids. Thousands of Capitolites are chanting "LUH-UX! LUH-UX! DRUH-EW! DRUH-EW!" District Four has tugged the spotlight out of the ever-favorite District One. Ribbon, the District One girl who seemingly already hates me, is nearly shaking with rage by the time we pull into the Training Center.

* * *

All in all, the parade wasn't really that interesting. The crowd loved us, which was adrenaline- and confidence-boosting, but after that nothing really happened. The most entertaining thing was Finnick rushing up to me to embrace me tightly. "You're going to get so many sponsors they'll be lined up around the block," he whispers into my hair. I smile broadly along with Drew. "And you too, Drew; I think most of the ladies had the hots for you." Finnick winks. "Some of the guys as well."

I burst out into laughter as Drew tries to maintain a dignified expression. Finnick laughs along with me and we fall back against the wall, tasting each other's laughs and breathing each other's air, and I feel absolutely fine.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Light—Chapter 4**_

_a/n: Hey again, guys! I really hope you're enjoying this series so far. Don't hesitate to comment—constructive criticism, ideas, just your overall feelings toward the writing so far! Thanks, and enjoy Chapter 4!_

Chapter 4—The Broken Girl and the Broken Boy

Lux's POV

I lay—once again—sleepless in bed, the sheets strewn around me. My hair is in knots. My nails are bloody from pressing my fingernails under each other. My eyes are horribly puffy from crying.

I'm having a breakdown.

There are so many things running through my mind that sometimes I'm sobbing before I even know what I'm sad or mad about—Pippa? Noely? Mom? Dad? Dying? Training? Finnick? Drew? The arena? The Games? So. Many. Things.

I am one girl bearing the weight of several hundred problems.

**and i am breaking.**

Slowly but surely my body will become as broken as my eyes. Next comes my lungs so I will be gasping for breath, the taste of air as it enters my windpipe expelled forever. And finally comes the heart and soul. The heart breaks easily, it's getting to the heart that's hard. That won't take long. Eventually I will get over the heartbreak.

But the break of the soul—oh, the soul—is most difficult of all. And also the most deadly.

Because once you give up hope, you give up _**everything.**_ Everything you've ever worked for, fought for, cried for. Everything you've ever wanted dissipates into thin air. You grab at it frantically but your arms are broken, how are you supposed to grasp it? You scream names and cry for help, but you've already suffocated. You're choking on your own air. You try to run away but you're already dead.

I'm already dead, like I told Finnick.

_"I'll fix you." _He said he would fix me. "FIX ME!" I want to scream, holding my broken pieces out to him. "FIX ME!"

_ maybe i am broken beyond repair_

My thoughts are getting warped, twisted by the poison of sleep. Suddenly I'm envisioning Finnick turning me away, leaving me alone in the arena. I envision Drew turning on me, Ribbon and the other Careers with him, all turning on me. Everyone turning and turning and turning. No one to help me. I see Pippa in the arena, swinging her scythe at me. Noely with her daggers. Me, weaponless and broken because i'm no good, i'm no good. i'm just a scared little girl with a serious anxiety problem**.**

** i'm just dead.**

No, no, no, the wise part of me says. These are the nerves. This isn't me. I'm too tired and too anxious to think clearly. I'm not dead. I fight with the best of them.

And I brought this upon myself when I uttered those words.

_no, i'll fight._

Those words. Those words that grabbed me and pulled me into an entirely new and different world, one with Finnick Odair in it.

FiNnIcK!

I sit up, ruffling my knotted hair. Finnick! Why didn't I think of it before? He can help. He'll know how to take care of me.

* * *

I stand woozily and begin the shuffle to Finnick's room. I'm dressed in a thin t-shirt and cotton shorts, my hair in an extremely tangled fishtail braid. I find his room easily enough, but when I knock on the door nobody answers. I figure he must be asleep and turn the knob quietly.

He's not in his bed. "Finnick!" I whisper-exclaim. "Finnick?"

Nothing. I frown and walk over to his bed. The blankets are messed up and still warm. I climb onto his bed and pull them around me.

It smells so comforting and salty and Four-esque. I bundle myself in them and fall asleep.

"Lux?" I'm woken probably about twenty minutes later.

"Finnick!" I half-groan. "I'm so sorry; I came looking for you…" I sit up, dazed, and peer through the darkness at him.

His hair is just as mussed as mine, and from what I can tell he hasn't slept either.

"It's okay, Lux. I went to go find you, too." He flicks on a light.

Dark shadows adorn his eyes, his face bloody. His hands bear numerous scratches and cuts, his arms severely bruised.

"What happened?" I whisper, eyes wide. My fingers find his cheek and I wipe away a bit of the blood. He closes his eyes.

"Let's take a walk."

We're on top of the roof, the wind howling like mad. It's not cold, but it is cool, and I wrap my arms around myself. Finnick gently draws them away and replaces them with his own.

"Thank you," I tell him.

We take a seat near this garden of sorts, Finnick's arms still encircling me firmly.

"What happened?" I ask again, scared of what he will tell me.

Finnick takes a big, heaving breath. A few tears roll down his cheeks and I catch them with my thumbs, heart pumping furiously. This isn't Finnick. Finnick isn't vulnerable. I'm vulnerable. He's the one who gets me through things.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

"President Snow," he hisses through gritted teeth.

I'm silent for a moment. Then—

"Why? What did you do?"

Finnick smiles wanly. "Genetics, Lux."

"Genetics? What's this got to with genetics? Finnick, are you okay?" I'm in a sort of panic, but not a panic attack. It's a sort of mind-spinning fear and anxiety that fills my brain and washes everything else out. All I can think of is helping Finnick.

"I'm a piece of merchandise," he tells me, staring at me so his eyes are exactly level with mine.

Sea-green and black smash together and tumble tumble tumble. His lips are forming words, horrible words, but he gives me the general idea.

"President Snow…sells me. He sells my body. To the girls of the Capitol." More tears spill over, pouring out of his eyes. "Resistance is futile."

I'm completely numb. I don't even have to ask why. I can't ask why.

I just lean forward and arrange myself so I'm nestled in his bruised arms, my broken eyes full of tears for this broken body.

* * *

We stay there for about twenty minutes trying to get warm before I speak again.

"How long has this been going on for?" I ask, not wanting to know but having to know.

"It started about a week after I'd won. It was the worst during the Victory Tour. People used to scoff that I could go through two or three girls every district." He swallows, looking very anxious. "I did…but not willingly."

"What if you wanted to marry someone?" He smiles at me. _HOW CAN HE SMILE WHEN ALL THIS IS GOING ON? _"What if you actually wanted to get married and not…be a slave anymore?"

"I…don't know. I can't get married yet, that's all I know. President Snow must have this intricate plan labeled 'The Entire Life of Finnick Odair'." He glances at me. "Maybe you'd want to be a part of it."

I shake my head, almost smiling. "This is serious, Finnick. I want to help you."

"Help me? Great. What's your plan? To kick President Snow in the shins and then toss him off a building? Lovely. Let's go." His smile vanishes almost as quickly as it came. "You'd only be in danger, Lux. Right now you need to focus on the arena."

What?

Are you kidding me?

_"Why the hell do you tell me these things and then tell me to focus?"_ I demand.

"The more you have going on up here—" He taps my forehead. "The more you have going on up there, in that pretty little head of yours, the better. You focus better with a drive." Finnick grins at me. "I could be your drive." His warm, callused hand grasps mine. "Win for me, Lux."

I look up at him. I can barely make out his eyes in the suffocating darkness.

_ Pippa, Noely, Mom, Dad, District Four._

_ And now Finnick._

"When you said we'd talk later, what did you want to talk about?" Finnick asks softly.

"Basically…" I breathe deeply. "I always mess things up, Finnick. Always. I always ruin a relationship or mess up a friendship or wreck any signs of warmth with a stranger. I've got to be careful, because a) I don't want to ruin anything, and b) if I die in the arena, I don't want you to freak out. I'm not anything special, Finnick, and I don't want to mean anything more than a friend to you. That's why I've been treading carefully around you and Drew. I don't want to kill Drew, I'll be too depressed. I don't want to leave you because then we'll both be depressed, and I don't want to get attached to you because when I die you'll get…lonely."

Finnick kisses my fingers. Ten kisses, one for each finger. I carefully remove my hands.

"What did I just say?" I ask through trembling lips, crying again.

"You just said some things about why you are broken. I'm fixing you," he says, and wraps me around him, my head resting on his chest.

* * *

I fall asleep in his room, after he carried me back down and kissed my forehead. I had no energy to tell him not to kiss me again, to pLeAsE not get attached to me. I just sort of smiled and drifted off and was awoken gently three hours later by the same person I fell asleep looking at.

"Rise and shine, beautiful," he whispers. I keep my eyes shut but smile lazily nonetheless. "Did you get enough sleep?"

I laugh and throw my hands up. Fear strikes me at first, seeing the blood under my fingernails, but I remember the breakdown last night and hide them quickly. Finnick sees this—as he sees everything—and softly asks me what happened.

"I…panicked. I thought of everything that was going on and broke down." I play with the sheets, staring at a fleck on the wall, where the paint has peeled off slightly. I wonder about this for a moment—the Capitol always makes sure the rooms are in top shape. Have the Avoxes been slacking off?

And then Finnick intertwines his hand with mine and I'm jerked violently back into reality, into a reality where the world spins and bites and claws and attacks and I feel my heart race, feel my breathing quicken.

Finnick wraps his arms around me and calmly instructs me to breathe. He rests his head on my chin and keeps me folded in a warm embrace until I calm down, until I'm fine.

"Why does this always happen?" I whisper through tears. "It's going to happen in the arena and I won't be able to control it and—and—and I'm going to get caught and get killed, Finnick, because you won't be there and I need you."

"I need you just as much as you need me, Lux." He smiles. "You're the only sane being here."

I laugh. "I'm just as sane as you are."

"Not comforting," he giggles.

* * *

**BEFORE TRAINING**

Finnick's POV

Lux is staring at herself in the mirror, her jumpsuit fastened securely. She carefully braids her hair into two fishtails. I smile. Fishtails, Four. She's the perfect representation of District Four.

She catches my gaze in the mirror. I glance away hurriedly, my cheeks turning red.

Why do I _do_ that around her? I always blush. _Always._ It's not like I can help it, either.

**Lux is the single most beautiful person in the entire world.**

Not just in the looks department, though, albeit she is absolutely gorgeous. I remember the first time I saw her.

Her eyes.

Her eyes strike you more than anything else about her. They're pitch-black, cracked with a single streak of the darkest gray, running straight through the iris. I don't think she even notices it sometimes. Her hair is the most beautiful kind of blonde, but she told me she wishes it was dark, chocolate brown so her eyes wouldn't stand out as much. She told me she loves chocolate brown, not blonde. She told me brunettes seem too average but in reality are usually ahead of the curve.

She told me, she told me, she told me. She's told me so much, and the only thing I've really mentioned to her was that I'm a sex slave. What a great thing to say.

Anyways, she's not only beautiful in her face and hair.

She's got the most beautiful way of fighting.

She fights her anxiety. I can see it. In the one attack I saw, I saw her claw for breath and scream for movement until it worked. I don't help as much as she thinks I do. She's really the one throwing it off. And sometimes she holds off an attack as well. Lux comes in swinging and leaves bruised and bloodied but victorious.

She's also beautiful in the way she laughs, the way she talks. Her personality is beautiful. She makes me laugh constantly. She's always telling me something. She's like the perfect little sister, except I'm in love with her.

* * *

**i am in love with her!**

* * *

That's so crazy. I've known her less than a week! And I love her!

Thinking back on last night, however, this makes everything much more difficult.

_"I don't want to get attached to you."_

Her exact words.

It stung, it burned, it hit home. I realized that maybe she didn't return the feelings. After her explanation, it dawned on me:

Lux is her own worst enemy.

She destroys her own walls. She ruins her own life.

It sounds terrible. But Lux can control all of this. She can control her anxiety. She told me she wasn't always anxious. Something must've happened and Lux latched onto it. Now she's inseparable from it.

I have to fix her.

I _have _to, if I have any chance with her. I need her.

I sound cheesy. I sound like a Capitolite wannabe. I sound like someone who rushes into love.

Really, I know that leaving Lux means leaving behind this amazing bond we've created.

She's the one I can tell anything to. She doesn't judge me and my demons because she knows what it's like. Nobody else knows what it's like.

Honestly, when I found her curled up in my bed, my heart leapt and I told myself it was time to reveal myself to her. She'd already trusted me so much. She'd already thrust herself into my arms and expected me to catch her. I caught her, and she loved me for it. She loves me for it.

And what had I done besides that? Besides arouse her from her demons? Nothing. I'd helped her two or three times and told her nothing about myself. I'd played with her emotions multiple times. I'd been the Capitolite guy everyone knows me as—seductive and sly, but never sticking with one girl for too long. Lux didn't buy it.

I know she recognized me as famous. But she didn't admire me for anything other people admire me for. She admired me for my combat skills, for my intelligence. She told me on the first day that I was her idol going into the Games. It felt…strange, coming from an absolutely beautiful girl who had _no intent on kissing me in a bedroom. _All of the girls I have ever met have desired me, desired me dearly, their fingernails clawing at my chest, their lips fumbling on mine in the dark, hands slid under sweaty shirts, dark secrets whispered drunkenly over wet pillowcases. My nightmares coming to life every single night. Lux is a good dream.

But as all good dreams go, they must come to an end.

If she dies, I'll be forced to remember her every time I'm forced into a room with another girl. If she wins, she'll be given lots of glory and she'll be happy and with her family. But **I will have to continue slavery.** She'll be free to do what she likes, to marry anyone she pleases. She'll be free to do what she wants. I'll still be a slave, waiting for President Snow to die or jus P.

I suddenly feel warm breath on my shoulder, soft hair tickling my face, a light, faintly fruity scent engulfing me. Lux.

"You seemed lost," she whispers, her arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly. "I thought maybe you needed directions." She kisses my cheek and then stops. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," I murmur, winding my fingers through her hair. "I'm the one who's sorry, Lux. Sorry that I have to put you through this. Sorry that you have to go through all of this. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, eyes wide. "It's not your fault. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? You're—I can't leave you, Lux. I wish I was going in there instead of Drew. I wish I could protect you better." I take her wrists, clench them tightly. Her intake of breath alerts me that it hurts.

I press harder. "Finnick!" she cries out, trying to wrench herself away.

"No, you need to listen." I hold tighter, tighter…

"Finnick!" she gasps. "Please stop!" I don't stop. I pull harder, harder, transferring my pain to her. "FINNICK!" she screams, and then a forceful punch to my face. I jerk away, rubbing my cheek. She wipes her eyes, glaring defiantly. "What the hell?"

"I…I'm…You're going to win and I'm going to be left behind, I'm still going to be here and you'll forget about me and run away with someone you love." I hang my head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Lux's expression softens. "Is that actually what you think, you idiot?"

I raise my gaze to hers. Her eyes are broken still. _When will I ever fix them?_

"You honestly think I'd do that?_ You're so stupid._" She grits her teeth and stares at herself in the mirror. Her lip curls. What does she see? Ugliness? Imperfections? There are none, how is that possible? When I look in the mirror, I see failure. She'd tell me that there is none, how is that possible? I suppose our eyes are blinded by our emotions sometimes.

* * *

"I wouldn't leave you, Finnick."


	5. Chapter 5

_Light—Chapter 5_

**a/n: Hey, lovelies. Happy November! I hope you guys had a great Halloween. Enjoy Ch. 5!**

Chapter 5—Do You Ship It

Lux's POV

"I don't think I'm ready for Training," I say to Finnick, curled up beside him in my apartment. He flicks the remote and the tape of his Games pauses.

Finnick laughs and squeezes my hand. "Lux, I've been told about you and your axes and maces. You're ready."

I press my lips together. "Combat is only part of it."

"Let's see," Finnick says, holding up his hand and lacing our fingers. "You're the smartest person I know. You've got incredible reflexes. You're from Four, which means you're a born fighter. You know about plants. You know how to find food." He grins dazzlingly. "Is that not proof?"

I smile wanly, my stomach folding in on itself. The nerves are buzzing. Training is absolutely horrifying. Everyone sees your strengths, your weaknesses—unless you hide them. What do I do? Save the axe and mace, or show them off? Train with different weapons, or stick to my most familiar ones? I'm ever so grateful that Finnick is my mentor.

Drew strolls in to the room and spots us entwined on the couch, my head resting on his chest. I sit bolt upright, blushing like mad, but Finnick pulls me back down.

"Another catch, Finnick?" Drew says, amused.

Finnick's face goes white.

"Nope. We're practicing a check for a stopped heart," I say smoothly. I put my ear to Finnick's chest, and then check his wrists for a pulse. "You seem to be alive."

Finnick's eyes thank me a million times over while he laughs. Drew laughs too. I'm not mad at Drew. He had no clue. Finnick is notorious for these sorts of things. So I try to be polite.

"Drew, why don't you practice on me?" I offer politely. Drew's entire face changes and he's as red as I just was.

"Oh—sure." I lay down and Drew clambers on top of me. He puts his head on my—albeit flat—chest and listens intently. "It seems regular."

It's not. It's beating a million miles a second. "Now the pulses." He checks my wrists, and his delicate fingers move to my neck and press gently.

"A-okay, Lux," he says softly, sapphire-blue eyes gazing at me intently.

Finnick, on the other hand, looks upset and unhappy. I honestly can say I don't notice, because Drew's eyes are slashing at my shield, tearing it down, trying desperately to pry it away, to see the real Lux, the real nervous and weird and relationship-wrecking Lux. And I'm throwing it back up, blocking myself with it. Nobody can get attached, and that's why I—

Wait.

I think back to earlier, at the jumpsuit fitting.

_"I…I'm…You're going to win and I'm going to be left behind, I'm still going to be here and you'll forget about me and run away with someone you love…I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

_ "Is that actually what you think, you idiot? You honestly think I'd do that? You're so stupid. I wouldn't leave you, Finnick."_

I've gotten myself attached to Finnick already. I just didn't see it at first.

I grit my teeth. God, no. Now everything will be thrown out of whack. I'm going to screw up somehow, end up hurting him. I don't—I don't want to do that!

But…

Maybe I'm being paranoid.

* * *

Finnick's POV

I haven't seen Lux all day. She's been in her apartment. She won't open the door. She says she's "thinking". I respect that, but all the same, I'm deathly bored.

Time is trickling away. Training starts in an hour and a half. Lux has to get ready. Vivian isn't mad, but her prep team is spitting fire. I leave to go get her before things get ugly.

"Lux, please! Shafe is near tears. Please come out and get ready." I knock on her door lightly.

She throws it open and suddenly we're kissing.

Her lips are soft at first, questioning, sort of reluctant. But I need more than that. I press my mouth harder against hers and then she wakes up, her hands winding in my hair. I move mine up and down her waist, and she pins me to the wall and kisses me harder, rougher. We're gasping into each other's mouths, her hands slipping down, crawling under my shirt, then climbing back up to press against the wall, locking us into place. I cup her face in my hand and tangle my fingers in her beautiful hair. I whisper her name against her mouth, and she shushes me delicately, demanding more.

Finally we have to come up for air to avoid suffocation. I pull away first, gently, as to not imply that I don't want to keep kissing her, because I do. I want to kiss her for all eternity, to hold her against me, to knot her hair with my hands, to kiss gently and roughly and gently and roughly. I want Lux.

She smiles bashfully. "I had…a realization," she murmurs.

"Oh?"

"I decided that there's no reason to live if you can't live the way you want to." And she strikes again, throwing herself at me, expecting me to catch her.

I do, and I kiss her again.

* * *

Lux's POV

"Snow?" Finnick whispers, lips against my cheek. I close my eyes.

"He'll already know," I whisper back. "I was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Finnick laughs softly. "Lux, that's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smile. "That's good. Me too."

* * *

**TRAINING CENTER: DAY 1**

I let go of Finnick's hand, kissing his cheek once and then walking confidently into the Training Center for Day 1.

My hair is done in a single fishtail braid. My training uniform is a deep blue accented with wisps of purple thrown around here and there. I wear sturdy but comfortable boots.

Honestly, I'm buzzing inside. I! KISSED! FINNICK! ODAIR! I repeat it to myself over and over. I! KISSED! FINNICK! ODAIR! WE! CAN! BE! IN! LOVE!

I'm so glad I've managed to get over my obstacle. I can't be afraid anymore—I can't _afford_ to be afraid anymore. So I'm just not going to be. It's so simple, but so complicated.

"Hey, it's Mrs. Odair! Smile, Odair!" Ribbon snarls, a smirk plastered on her face. "Where's the hubby?"

I roll my eyes. "District One, is it?" She nods, smug. "Honey, that district is as overrated as you are." She goes red with anger.

"What are you, District Four? I bet you eat nothing but fish. That must be why you're so _oily._" Everyone laughs, but I just laugh along with them because it makes no sense.

"Do you have ribbon for brains? Oh, wait…"

"Okay, tributes. Break it up." Yvonne, the trainer, yanks Ribbon away from me. She curls her lip and flounces over to her district partner, a bugling mass of muscle named Aaron.

"These next days will be some of your toughest ever," Yvonne says, arching an eyebrow. "The Training Center serves as a bit of a warm-up, a review. A final stand going into the Games. I would suggest that you pay rapt attention. Any bit of information could safe your life. If you mistakenly chow down on hidden nightlock, maybe you will regret not paying attention in the Edible Plants section. If your fire suddenly does not start, perhaps you will strain your memory back to Basic Survival. Study hard, and learn much. And remember: no fighting with the other tributes." She shoots Ribbon and I a pointed look. Ribbon tosses her hair back and rolls her eyes.

"I'm eighteen," she hisses when we start to disperse. "How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen," I spit back. "And more educated than you." I smirk and whirl around to go find Drew. He's standing near the Intermediate Survival station.

"Hi," he says cheerfully. "I thought I'd catch up on some basics." He bows. "Care to join?" I smile and nod. "Cool."

The instructor looks pleased to have some serious visitors. "All of the other tributes think nothing of my station," he confesses. "They are 'too good' for it." He smiles at us. "Nevertheless, let us move on."

Within a half and hour, I know how to start a fire using wet wood, something that could be lifesaving. We also learn some more advanced snares. Drew and I touch up our survival skills while the other Careers fling knives at targets. I've decided to save the axes, maces, and scythes until the end.

* * *

Drew leads me over to the Knot-Tying, the Hand-to-Hand Combat, the Edible Plants, and the Medicinal Plants stations.

Finally we cycle through the most important ones and find ourselves back at weapons. It's nearly three o'clock.

"Let's kick some ass," I say, grabbing a few axes.

They fit perfectly in my hands, all different shapes and sizes, steel and copper and gold and diamond-edged and some with ruby-encrusted handles and gemstone grips. I decide on some plain steel ones and stand at the line. Then I begin.

There are twelve dummies waiting for us. I embed one axe in a chest and the other finds a neck. I whirl around and throw another axe at the dummy furthest right. It strikes home. With lightning speed, I grab some more axes and fling them, two in each hand, ambidextrous. Both find the stomachs, stuffing spilling out. One axe finds the heart and tears downward, and fake blood spurts everywhere. I chuck the final axe at the final dummy. It rips the dummy's head off and sticks it to the wall behind me.

Panting slightly, I turn around to find dead silence. Everyone is watching me. Their eyes slide from the mangled dummies to me and back.

Finally Drew lets out a whistle. The District Twelve girl cheers wildly. The Ten boy and the Nine girl whoop loudly. Even Ribbon can hardly look away. I smile with pride and find some maces.

These maces are perfect in my hand. I whirl one over my head and throw it at the dummy. It twirls through the air before spiking the torso. Blood squirts out at me. I laugh as it gets all over my jumpsuit. Drew rejoins me, throwing some knives. He's incredibly good. He smiles at me as he flings one over his shoulder. It still manages to puncture an arm. I laugh when he chucks one under his legs, jumping as he does so. It finds a chink in the armor, right where the collarbone transforms into the neck.

Finally I find the scythes.

_Pippa would be so proud. _I get closer this time, not throwing but instead getting up close and personal. I hack here and there, spinning and gasping and stabbing. When I step away, exhilarated, I see fake, oozing red blood everywhere and cottony insides spilling out onto my shoes.

_ Again, everyone is watching me._

I feel my anxiety rock like a tidal wave. All those eyes, prying, trying to evaluate me. I try to slow my breathing. I concentrate on some throwing disks, for Noely. I'm definitely not as good, but I can still hit vital organs; lungs, heart, stomach, brain. It all works.

I then try some weapons I'm not as familiar with. I attempt some archery. I'm not awful, but I'm nowhere near good. I can hit arms and legs, but not torsos or heads. Some people still peer at me, trying to figure out my strategy. One tiny thirteen-year-old girl from Seven comes up and shakily asks me for advice.

"What would you like to know?" I say kindly.

"Well, my name is Sadie." Her lips quiver. "I just want to live long enough to say my good-byes."

Her voice breaks my heart. "Okay, Sadie. C'mon. I'll show you some things."

* * *

"How was it?" Finnick asks, taking my hands.

"Great," I say tiredly. "I'm exhausted."

"Any ally ideas beside Drew?"

"Well—Sadie from Seven."

Finnick smiles. "Okay, anyone else?"

"Girl from Twelve, boy from Ten, girl from Nine."

"Any reason?"

"They cheered for me when I showed off my axery, macery, and scythery."

Finnick laughs and takes my hand. "So were you good?"

Drew materializes behind us. "Good? She blew those dummies to smithereens. Good lord, Lux. You should show Finnick that sometime." He smiles and blows us a kiss. I love Drew. He's such a great person.

Finnick walks me up to my apartment, kissing my neck gently. I turn around and push him up against the wall, crashing his lips against mine. We are two waves, slamming into one another, sliding down the wall till we're sitting there, kissing ferociously, moaning.

I wrench myself away first, leading him over to the couch. I sit down, Finnick wrapping his arms around me. I'm still buzzing with adrenaline.

"We'll get up when it's time for me to go into the arena," I say.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't." He smoothes the hair off my forehead. "I—I don't want you to go."

I smile. "Do you think I want to? I'd much rather go back to Four with you and be with Pippa and Noely. I miss them." I tilt my head. "What about your family?"

Finnick clears his throat. I raise my hand to my mouth. "God, sorry. I'm—such an idiot. I didn't mean—sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Finnick says, laughing harshly. "You're curious. I'm curious. But curiosity killed the cat, Lux. In the arena, you can't always be curious. That sound? That could be the sound of a beast crawling around, waiting to strike. That light? That could be another tribute's fire, seemingly deserted until it's too late. That explosion? It could be coming right for you." He sighs. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I take his hands and interlace our fingers. "Finnick, I either die or come home." I nuzzle his nose with mine. "If I die, at least I'll die happy."

Finnick and I stay there until dinner, discussing the Games. He frequently gives me kisses—"because once you're in the arena I won't be able to kiss you"—and always has his arms around me. "I'm your guardian angel," he whispers, his lips brushing my collarbone.

I smile. "Dinnertime, angel," I say, mussing his golden hair into a halo.

He picks me and up pretends to fly me down to dinner. I laugh, red-faced, out of breath. "Put—me—down!" I gasp as he tickles my sides. "Finnick! FINNICK!" I'm half-screaming, half-laughing-my-guts-out. "Help! HELP!" I kick at him playfully, heaving for breath. Finally he sets me down, howling with laughter at the sight of my flushed face and sweaty forehead. "You jerk!" I say, still giggling.

Drew, Ursula, and Vivian smirk at us. Finnick blushes like mad but I just throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. "You make this place fun," I say quietly.

Finnick gives me a peck on the cheek. "Eat, grasshopper. Eating makes you big and strong."

"Says who?"

Finnick flexes his muscles. "Psh," I say, waving my hands.

"So…how was training, Lux?" Vivian drawls, sawing into her steak. "Didja knock them dead?"

"Unfortunately no. But all in due time."

"I like this new you," Vivian tells me. "You're much more…confident. Less anxious."

I glance at Finnick. "I wonder why. But I like this new me too. It's just what I need to head into the arena: a boost of self-esteem. I'm not as nervous anymore. I think I'm finally getting over my stupid anxiety disorder. I love this."

"Well, I believe this calls for a toast!" Ursula cheers, patting down her orange hair. "To Lux! To Drew! The amazing tributes this year!"

Everyone raises their glasses. Finnick is glowing with pride and snatches my hand under the table, moving his thumbs in lazy circles across my fingers.

I've never felt more at peace.

* * *

It's about eight o'clock when Finnick slips into my room, unnoticed. "Hey," he breathes, trembling slightly.

"Oh, Finnick," I whisper, horrified. He's bruised and bloodied again. "Finnick. I'm—" I stop. Breathe. "Come into the bathroom. We'll clean you up." His bottom lip is split and puffy. "Why does he hurt you?"

"Because I resist. Tonight it was a fifteen-year-old. After…well, President Snow wasn't satisfied. He told me to go back into the room where she was waiting. I said no. I said enough. And then…" He starts to sob quietly, putting his head in his hands. I wrap my fragile arms around him, my broken eyes peering at him.

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Finnick raises his eyes to me, one black and the other full of tears. "It's going to be okay." My voice is calm, gentle. But inside I am absolutely dying. I'm breaking. Just when I thought I was new, Finnick comes and breaks down in my arms again. I am trying desperately to hold him, to keep us both afloat. But sooner or later my body will break like my eyes and we will both sink. "You can get through this. I will always be here for you."

He nods, gasping. "Just—fix me."

I feel my heart ka-POUND. It drops into my shoes and flies back up to my chest, screaming. _DON'T TRUST ME,_ I scream in my head. _I WILL LET YOU DOWN._

And yet, I promised him it would be okay. Shit. I'm such a terrible person. I'm a hypocrite.

"I don't know if I can," I say, voice catching, tears flooding my eyes. "I—can't even fix myself. Why—would you—trust me?"

Finnick stares at his feet. "I trust you more than anyone I've ever met, Lux."

Within an hour I've gotten Finnick cleaned up. The blood has been washed away, the cuts cleaned, the bruises iced, the sweat dried. He can't stop shaking and crying though, and it breaks my heart.

Finally I just kiss him. I kiss him out of complete and total love, because I do love him, I love him so much, and I didn't realize it til just a little while ago. I kiss him gently as to not hurt him but confidently. I kiss him to help him, and it works. He resurfaces and smiles at me so warmly that I almost melt.

"I sort of needed that," he whispers, our foreheads touching. "You help me focus and keep me blurry at the same time, Lux. My head freaking spins around you." He kisses my fingers. "You're like alcohol: the more I get, the more I want, the dizzier I get. I love you."

I smile and dap at his cheek, where the last stubborn bit of dried blood remains. "I just wish I wasn't so useless sometimes, Finnick. You need someone who can help you. I can't help you any more than I can help myself. I put you above myself and I still fail. I never thought—I never thought that famous Finnick Odair would fall for anxious, disorderly Lux, who's always crying about something."

"Don't say those things about you," Finnick says jaggedly. "Don't put yourself down, okay? Don't become what you believe." He presses his head into my shoulder, pecking my collarbone. "Just see what I see," he pleads. "See the beautiful exterior giving way to an even more beautiful interior. See the perfect black eyes, perfectly broken, always seeking my soul. See the fantastic laugh and absolutely breathtaking smile, the kind of smile that makes you want to make you always, always smile."

My heart practically seeps into a hot, gooey, bubbly puddle.

_GODDAMN IT FINNICK._

_ STOP MAKING ME MELT._


	6. Chapter 6

_Light—Chapter 6_

**a/n: Hey guys! So that last chapter was really sweet to write, but the one concern I sort of have is **_**did Lux and Finnick's relationship move along too fast? **_**I'm sort of overwriting that with **_**I want Lux to have her relationship begin before she goes into the arena.**_** Also, I realize she's not really focused on the arena that much right now. This is because she is a Career. And she is fantastic with her weapons. She's not as petrified as, say, a girl from Twelve or Eleven. Just wanted to clarify a few things. Enjoy Ch. 6!**

Chapter 6—Envious

Finnick's POV

Today I get to watch Lux train—some new thing with the Head Gamemaker giving me and the rest of the mentors the okay—and already I can see she's fantastic.

She takes a deep breath, her long blonde hair braided back into a perfect messy fishtail. She holds two axes, one in each hand, and several more lay at her feet.

And then she strikes.

She whirls with lightning speed, flinging one and then spinning tightly, throwing as she goes. The two embed themselves in a dummy; one finding the neck, the other ripping the stomach open. In no way breaking fluency, she reaches down for two more and jumps forward, chucking the axe and then making a graceful side-step-step-step motion, facing backward, ducking, and throwing at the same time. She hits it perfectly. The last two axes find her hands. She does her incredible backhand throw—how the hell do you backhand _with an axe_—and it hits home. Right in the head, in the eye cavity. The last axe she gets up close, striking and stabbing with incredible speed.

She walks to me confidently, leaving the entire Training Center gawking behind her.

"You're better than I am!" I state, still in complete and utter astonishment. "How the hell?"

"It's called _inherited traits, _Finnick. If your pretty little head spent more time in school, maybe you'd realize it!" Lux laughs. "My grandfather was the best axe-wielder District Four ever knew. Harold Rosaria."

"He was _your_ grandfather?" I gape.

"Yessir." She smiles. "I do miss him. He taught me how to fling my axe. After he died, I took it up with passion. I love using axes. They balance in my hands perfectly." She smirks. "Wanna see me use a mace?"

I nod.

* * *

Again, she stands in front of some dummies with numerous metallic maces strewn around the floor. She takes a deep breath.

And she strikes.

The first mace she throws, and it spikes a chest. The next one she gets up closer, and takes a violent turn and slices the stomach open. She steps back quickly, flinging two more, and they find two separate dummies, clawing into both of them. And then she begins the real deal. She's a silvery swirl of color, dancing around, striking here, striking there. I can hardly keep up with her. The last dummy falls at her feet.

Panting, she takes a bow. The Training Center explodes with applause.

I pound my hands together.

"That was _great!_" a high-pitched, sly voice says behind me.

Ribbon.

"Hey, Finnick!" she says cheerily, taking a seat next to me. She kicks her heels up on my lap. "Long time, no see!"

"Ribbon," I say curtly. She pouts.

"That's not very nice!" she whines. "We're old friends!"

Ribbon was one of the girls who paid good money for the things President Snow makes me do. We've spent numerous nights together. My heart races, thumping in my throat.

"'Old friends', yeah," I hiss.

"Oh, you had fun." She smiles, admiring her nails. "How's Miss Uncoordinated?"

"If you mean Lux, you just saw her. I can't wait to see her up against you in the arena." I gesture to the dummies.

Ribbon laughs. "I'll get rid of her for you, don't worry." She slides onto my lap, fiddling with my hair. "She's just like a leech! Always hanging around very annoyingly. Not long now, til the leech will be dead!" She laughs again.

I feel sick to my stomach. There's a demon on my lap. I want to scream and throw her to the ground, but I stay calm.

Ribbon frowns. "Don't say that you don't love me, Finnick. You love me." Her lips trace the outline of my ear, her tongue just barely grazing my cheek. "You couldn't get enough."

"Get off of me, Ribbon," I say, voice shaking.

"Is this about _Rosaria? _The dumb little blonde girl? Haha. You'd pick her over me?" Ribbon laughs. "Let's see what it's like when it's me up against her, huh? She'll be dead before you can blow her one—last—kiss." Ribbon locks her mouth on mine for a few seconds, biting my lip with her teeth. I can't cry out. I just sit there, paralyzed. "See you later, gorgeous," Ribbon purrs. "And tell Lux to watch her stupid little back."

I clench my fists. Lux needs to be careful. Ribbon may be a bitch, but she's a vicious, vicious person.

I attempt to catch Lux's attention without seeming too nervous. "Lux!" I say calmly, happily. I smile at her. She smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling. God, her eyes. Her eyes.

Lux breaks away from her crowd of admirers and comes to sit by me. "How was that?"

"Absolutely perfect. I've never seen anyone work like you do."

Lux grins, looking at her feet. "I never thought I was very good, up until a few months ago. My dad made a remark on it and I realized, _Holy crap—I actually don't suck!_" She laughs. "Anyway, maces—to me—balanced just like axes, but there's more looseness with maces, since you can twirl the spiked head. So I had to adjust. I did. I'm definitely not as good with maces, though. Axes are my main weapon."

I kiss her head. "You're incredible," I tell her. "Okay. What else are you good at?"

But Lux isn't looking at me anymore. "Why's Ribbon mad?" I look behind me to see Ribbon glaring at Lux. She makes an obscene gesture. "Ooh," says Lux. "Be right back."

"Lux, no!" I scrabble for her jumpsuit sleeve, but she slips past me. "Hey, Ribbon! What was that, huh?"

"Oh, a little gift to Mr. Odair." Ribbon blows me a kiss. "Why don't you ask him about our affair? Tragic, how it ended. Maybe it doesn't have to end! I've got money to spare." She pushes Lux away from her, her hands ramming into Lux's shoulders.

"Watch yourself, Ribbon, or you might end up tangled!" Lux shoots back, aiming a kick at Ribbon's shins. Ribbon steps back quickly.

"Shut up, you insignificant little wannabe! You're no Career! You're just Finnick's lapdog, you idiot. He'll use you. He'll use you til he's bored and then he'll throw you to the curb, like he did to me!" Ribbon screams. "If you get within twenty feet of me in the arena, you'll be dead before you can take another breath. Watch your back. You're my target, Rosaria. I will hunt for you. And when I find you, you will _die_!"

Lux gets angrier. "Finnick's past is Finnick's past! I'm no lapdog, you piece of garbage. And since you have no brains, maybe you don't realize that I can kill you faster than you can blink. One step toward me and my axe can and will find its way to your head! You can beg, Ribbon. You'll end up begging, in the end, but it won't make a difference. You're evil, you slithering lizard. I hope you step off your plate and blow into a million pieces."

Ribbon spits at Lux. "I don't give a—"

A whistle blows sharply. "LADIES, BREAK IT UP!" the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, bellows. "What are we to do with you?"

Lux points at Ribbon. "Just tape her lips shut."

"No, Miss…?"

"Lux Rosaria, sir." Lux bows. "I'm terribly sorry about the inconvenience. My temper toward this idiot got the best of me." Seneca chuckles good-naturedly.

"Quite alright, Miss Lux. And you are?"

"Ribbon Waver, sir." Ribbon curtseys ridiculously low, her hair almost tickling the ground. "I do apologize. I believe you know my uncle, actually. Gourmet Waver?" I have to refrain from snickering, even with the worry pounding inside of me. Gourmet? The people in One are such airheads.

"Ah, yes. Dear Gourmet. How is he holding up?"

Seneca Crane must be about twenty-five or twenty-six. His hair is a shiny shade of black, and his stubble has been cut into a curling shape, wrapping around his lips and intertwining with his sideburns. He's a very self-confident character.

"Fine, sir." Ribbon smiles, her good looks and venomous charm combining.

Ribbon has soft auburn hair that hangs down to her ribs. Her eyes are a strange blue-brown color, framed by obviously fake lashes. Her lips are full and red, her cheekbones high and angular. She always has makeup on, and she does this annoying maneuver where she tosses her hair to the side and runs her fingers through it. It always looks soft, but I bet it's oily from all of the enhancements.

I'd much rather look at Lux. Soft blonde hair; deep, mysterious, beautiful broken eyes; slender figure and strong hands. I love to watch her write.

Crane walks away with a final warning to Ribbon and Lux—if they fight again, their Training time will be eliminated and they will not have an opportunity to learn. Fear strikes across Lux's face. I can tell she feels that she needs this Training time.

Ribbon waves at me flirtatiously. I turn away hastily.

"Lux, how about some hand-to-hand combat?" I ask, and she nods.

"I've been waiting to try some." She smiles. "Wanna train?"

* * *

Lux is so fast that it's hard to keep her at bay. She swipes at me, ducking, finally pinning me to the ground. She kisses me hard on the lips—a lightning fast peck—and grins. "Beat you," she laughs.

"Good lord," I say, astounded. "How do you do what you do?"

"I'm a Rosaria," she says proudly. "It's in my blood."

She pulls me to my feet and brushes me off. "I'm fine, really," I say, but in reality my bruises ache and my cuts sting like crazy. Thank goodness I have a good makeup team and they're able to cover it up. But my entire body is screaming in pain. Sweat forms on my forehead. Battling it out with Lux didn't make it any better.

Lux sees the pain in my eyes and peers are me intently. "Are you okay, Finnick?"

I nod. I then begin to instruct her on where to keep tension, and how to quickly win a weaponless fight—jab with the elbows and knees, and go for the groin, stomach, neck, and eyes. A swift kick to the head doesn't hurt either.

She pays rapt attention, and then begins to work on her form while I scope out the competition.

The biggest threats right now are Districts One, Two, and Five. District Five lucked out this year—the boy is an eighteen-year-old, fast and strong, and the girl happens to be a great fighter when it comes to spears. Of course, Districts One and Two are always strong competitors. The other districts have a handful of decent players—there's the Nine girl who's good with a bow, the Eleven boy who can throw a knife, and the Seven boy who's quite accurate with his daggers—but no one that Lux shouldn't be able to take.

I tell Lux to take a break and head over to the Camouflage Station while I go find Drew.

Drew's been practicing with a bow and arrow for about a quarter of an hour. He's not bad, but he's slow to knock an arrow and slower to hit the target. His accuracy is good, but speed needs to improve. I watch for a few minutes and then decide to talk to him.

"Good shot," I say as he hits the innermost ring of the target.

Drew gives the bow a look of disgust. "I'm too slow, aren't I?"

"Well, yes, but if you focus on the arrow and not the bow, you'll do it faster. Try it."

He does, and his speed improves a fair amount. The accuracy isn't quite as good, but that comes with practice. "Better," I say, impressed. "Now let me see you throw a knife."

Drew grins and gathers up some knives. He walks over to the target, in Lux's line of sight. "Hey, Luxie!" he calls, and she turns around, smiling. "You're not the only one who can give them a show!"

Lux pardons herself from the Camouflage Station and comes over to Drew.

"Show me, then," she challenges, playfully shoving Drew. He shoves her back and they laugh.

Jealousy coils and swirls inside of me. Drew and Lux could easily get very close in the arena, and I could be left for dead with millions of screaming girls clawing at me. I can't lose Lux, but I watch helplessly as Drew kisses her cheek and stands at the target, Lux still taunting him.

Drew is absolutely fantastic with his knives. He hits the bullseye every time with astonishing speed and accuracy. Lux watches, eyes as wide as dinner plates. When he's done, he has a crowd of tributes admiring him, Lux included.

* * *

Teach me," she says determinedly, eyes sparkling.

For the next two hours, Lux and Drew stand together, throwing knives. I watch, green with envy.

Drew stands behind Lux, guiding her arm. He pulls her arm back gently and she releases. It hits the target, sticking straight in the middle.

"God, Drew!" she exclaims, beside herself with happiness. "You're a wizard, I swear." She kisses his cheek gently, and that's enough for me. I wave her over.

"Hey," I say, smiling to hide my pain. "Wanna…take a break?" I say it slyly, and her cheeks go red. She nods, giggling slightly.

"Where to?"

I put my arm around her and steer her out of the Center. "Break," I say to the young attendant in charge of the doors. She nods eagerly.

"Anything for you, Finnick," she purrs, her pink hair smelling too strongly of raspberries.

I bring Lux out, turn a few corners, and pin her against a wall, kissing her neck.

She gives a gasp of surprise, and then melts into little moans, pressing her lips against my cheek. I kiss her gently, but she's like a snake, striking over and over, her tongue dancing around. She tastes like vanilla and her skin smells like salt and lilies. She is the ocean, slamming against me, dowsing me again and again and I am a tiny sailboat having the privilege to sail.

We stay cemented to each other for awhile, but finally I pull away almost drunkenly, and she puts her arms around me. "That's some training for you," she whispers, her lips nipping at my ear.

God, I love her.

* * *

**FINAL NIGHT BEFORE LAST DAY OF TRAINING**

Lux's POV

It's about eleven o'clock and Finnick's stuck in my head.

I realize how much he means to me, how much I loved him, how quickly I fell for him. How quickly he got me over my fears, my anxiety, like the answers were right there the entire time and I couldn't see them and he could.

I think of his hands, strong and callused, gripping me and pulling me with him; his hair, a golden crown, silky and smooth and me winding my fingers through it; his skin, smooth and scarred; his lips, soft and warm and always gentle; his nose, the way I kiss it softly; his smile, real for me; and his eyes, as sea-green and beautiful as the ocean in Four, reminding me of home and of sailing and of the salty sea air. Finnick has burrowed his way into my heart and will never leave.

I put on a black tank top and some striped, rainbow cotton pajama shorts. My feet are bare and cold against the tile floor in the hallway. My hair is down and flowing scruffily over my shoulders. I find Finnick's room and knock gently, praying he isn't with Snow.

The door opens a crack, and Finnick smiles.

"Lux!" he exclaims, holding me close. I grin against his chest and hug him tightly. He's warm from sleep.

"Were you asleep?" I ask quietly.

"Dreaming of you," he responds, his voice a delicious whisper.

We climb onto his couch, his arms around me tightly, and I realize that I am his and he is mine, and no one else will suffice. He kisses my forehead and we talk, we talk like there are no particles of space between us.

"If you win, what will you do?" he asks, his eyes suddenly sad.

"First things first, you'll come home with me," I say right away. He smiles, a smile brighter than the moon. "And then I'll introduce you to Pippa and Noely."

"I hear a lot about them. Describe them."

* * *

Pippa

"Pippa is my oldest sister. She's absolutely beautiful inside and out. I can't think of a time when she did something selfish or rude. She always puts others first and sometimes she cares a little too much but that's okay. She's always been very cool and chill about things, and a lot of guys like her. She's the kind of person who can make any scary or sad situation better. Pippa is a kind of whiz when it comes to snatching crayfish. She's also really good with hair and makeup. She did my hair and makeup for the reaping. She was going to volunteer, too. She was screaming that she'd volunteer when I was reaped. She told me while she was saying good-bye that she'd get me a scythe in the arena, and then said—clear as day, righ there—that we should show Snow that family was nothing to mess with. She's always been daring, but not too daring to the point of extreme. She's almost never emotional. She helped me with my panic attacks when they used to be unbearable. Pippa can sing really well, and she reads smoothly. She always did very well in school. She can't stand rain and cold. She likes it warm and sunny. Pippa is very go-with-the-flow and makes the best of any situation. She has the same blonde hair as me, but straighter. Her eyes are very blue. She's tall and graceful, and she's skinny and athletic. She's always exercising. She has a scar on her arm from when I was eight and she was ten and we were swimming in the ocean and we accidentally annoyed a stingray. Pippa didn't cry, though, she just told me to get Mom. So I did, and she was fine. Pippa was always fine."

* * *

Noely

"Noely is my other sister, younger than Pippa but older than me. She's the smart one in the family. Noely is gorgeous, with hair just like Pippa's. Her eyes are dark blue around the edges and a soft blue right around the iris. She sometimes wears glasses. Noely never, ever cries, even when our pet goldfish Mr. Blubber died. She loved that thing like it was a first-born child. Anyway, Noely gave me the earrings I'm wearing right now. She's big on superstitions and luck. She believes wholeheartedly in the 'full moon' thing in Four. Noely always knows the answer. When we were saying our goodbyes, she told me I was fantastic but too young. She knew I was too young. Noely knows things. Her nose is always in a book. I love Noely, even though she can be a bit cold sometimes. She gives you the facts without considering your reaction. Noely has a fear of heights because when we were really young, we were playing at the top of this statue thing and she fell off, fell ten feet down onto solid concrete. She almost broke her neck and was lucky she didn't. I was the one who ran home screaming to Pippa. Noely also loves snow. She says it's fascinating because we almost never see it. Noely likes to draw and write and paint and things of that nature. One time she drew an eye with a crack through it. I asked what it was. She said that we look but don't see. She said that sometimes we see even when we don't look. Noely is the smartest person alive."

* * *

Finnick sits there for a second, studying me.

"You're a hell of a describer," he says finally, kissing me.

* * *

I sleep with him that night, my leg on top of his leg, his hands encircling me, protecting me from bad dreams, my hands resting on his chest, his chin on my forehead. When he falls asleep, I stay awake for a bit longer, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that comes from sleep. Then I plant a gentle kiss on his lips and drift off.

* * *

I wake up to cold hands carefully rousing me. Annie Cresta.

"Annie!" I say. Finnick is gone, already up. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you," she says, her face bright.

"That's good." I smile and stand, stretching. "Do you know where Finnick is?"

"He's in the bathroom."

I hear the water running. Then there's a loud thud.

I dart into the bathroom to see a bare-chested Finnick laying on the ground, crying.

"Finnick!" I moan, dropping to my knees.

He looks awful. There are black circles under his eyes and bruises and cuts all over his body. Blood is matted in his hair. When he stands, he falls back down again. It's like watching a wounded animal struggle across a road.

"Finnick, honey," I say again, taking his hand gingerly.

"I can't do it anymore," he whispers through trembling lips. "I can't do this anymore."

"I know, I know." I try to soothe him, but he just spits blood into the shower and sobs. It's awful, seeing someone so strong fall apart in your hands. I rub a circle on his thumb. I can't do anything but repeat how much I love him while he cries. Sometimes words are never enough. If I could speak to him every word of every language it wouldn't be enough. He needs someone who can support him. Not me. I'm bad for him.

"Lux," he whispers. "Lux, I love you."

"I love you I love you I love you," I murmur, tears pouring out of my eyes.

* * *

We sit there and wonder how the hell we'll get through this.

* * *

I guess in the end we got up and managed to choke down breakfast. It's a miracle that Finnick's makeup hid the scars that score his body.


	7. VIP MESSAGE

**importante message:**

**idk if i really want to do this story for very much longer. it's not getting the hype i wanted it to. so i'll go on hiatus for a little while, maybe do a different story? but i won't delete this one, i promise. i might pick it back up later. luhh ya all 3**


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